


Competitive Advantage

by UP2L8



Series: Sex Shop AU [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: The tall, statuesque blond woman strode in with a regal bearing and glanced around the store, disdain settling on her classical features. Her aristocratic gaze settled on Ed and her cold blue eyes narrowed. To his credit, Ed’s own regard did not waver. Because fuck that shit.





	Competitive Advantage

**Author's Note:**

> Almost done with my coursework! Have a little treat! I didn’t even read this over once – no time! Let me know if you see anything screwy.

Why was it always about the weather in this town? It was currently snowing like a bastard. It had been sunny about ten minutes ago. When Ed had come into the store that morning, it had been raining and windy as hell. By lunchtime a fucking tropical monsoon would probably blow through, giving way to freezing rain a few minutes later. 

March had come in like a lion. It had also gone out like a lion, what the fuck. It was the middle of April already, and March was still hanging around. As far as Edward could tell, not only was March fucking with tradition, April was a procrastinating asshole. 

In case anyone missed it, Ed was in kind of a bad mood – or a worse mood than usual for someone getting laid on the regular according to Winry, and guess who _else_ could get fucked. For one thing, he didn’t usually work the early shift at Pothos Boutique and was finding the dynamic much different from the late shift, which was irritating. This week was Spring Break too, which made for some exasperating problems. Ed had already kicked three groups of snickering, underage high school kids out of the store and it wasn’t even noon yet. Pothos wasn’t as busy on the day shift either, which meant he wasn’t going to have much to show for the extra hours commission-wise. That would have been fine because Ed had reading to do, but that wasn’t working out because Jad Sahib had come in with a big stock order that morning, so Edward would probably be up to his armpits in condoms, lube, and boring paperwork until closing instead of catching up on his coursework. 

On the up side, Mustang had walked in to pick up some stuff his aunt had ordered soon after Jad had shown up. Ed had been happy to see Roy - not that he’d made it too obvious; the Bastard’s ego was gigantic as it was. Edward usually enjoyed shooting the shit with Jad too, but the store owner was acting like a worried mother hen over the two days Ed had booked off to get his stem cells harvested. 

The DNA tests had come back, and Ed’s leukocyte antigens were a perfect match for Al. After the next course of chemo Al’s messed up stem cells would be totally cleaned out of his bone marrow and he’d be ready for the transplant. Ed had completed his donor work-up and was on his forth day of Neupogen to make sure he had a fuck ton of stem cells mobilized in his blood for harvesting. Tomorrow was the big day. 

Ed would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, which, as long as truth was being told, was probably contributing to his bad mood, too. After all the time he’d spent in hospitals, he should have been used to them, but he’d never been fond of needles and hospitals were chocked _full_ of the goddamned things, along with plenty of people ready to jab them into just about anyone who held still long enough. 

Ed would be holding still for six to eight hours tomorrow, with a needle jabbed into each arm, getting his blood sucked out through one and pumped back in through the other after the stem cells got screened out. It didn’t sound like his kind of party, that was for sure. 

But it was for Al, and Ed would put up with a thousand needles and give up every single drop of blood in his body if that’s what it took for Al to get well, no hesitation. A couple of needles were nothing compared to what Al was going through, and Ed knew he was a selfish asshole for being nervous about this. 

And admitting his shortcomings in that department – which was just an expression, had nothing whatso-fucking-ever to do with his stature, and anybody who said otherwise could eat a dick – was also a contributing factor to Ed’s foul mood. 

So then, of _course_ , just to make the day absolutely _perfect_ , the Ice Queen stalked into the store. 

Mustang was leaning over the counter being his usually sappy self when the doorballs chimed her arrival. He glanced over at the door and froze. Which, yeah. She had that effect on people. 

Olivier Armstrong was a stunning, blue-eyed blonde, probably a few years older than Roy. Tall and slim of build, the woman was also well-built and moved with the grace of an athlete. The eldest daughter of an upper crust family, she bore all the defining traits of the modern-day elite: arrogance, intolerance, and go fuck yourself superiority. Coupled with her formidably commanding and highly aggressive presence, Armstrong was a force to be reckoned with – or avoided if you could manage it. 

The woman strode in with a regal bearing and glanced around the store, disdain settling on her classical features. Her gaze slanted down her aristocratic nose to settle on Ed, and her cold blue eyes narrowed. To his credit, Ed’s own regard did not waver. Because fuck that shit. 

Jad Sahib rushed over and bowed deeply, his hands clasped to his chest. “Mistress Armstrong, welcome,” he said. “If I had known you would be coming in today, I would have arranged for your purchases to be picked and packaged.” 

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Armstrong said, coolly aloof eyes locked on Edward. Her gaze shifted to Roy, who was still frozen in astonishment. “Mustang?” she said, a touch of disbelief in her tone. 

Roy shook off his surprise. “Ms. Armstrong. You are probably the last person I would have expected to see walking into a sex shop.” His smirk was epic. 

Ed consciously chose not to roll his eyes. Of _course_ these two knew each other. 

Ed had met Olivier Armstrong on his third day working at Pothos Boutique. It had been a memorable first meeting for all the wrong reasons. Suffice to say that their personality traits had not been particularly complimentary. Since then, Edward had not seen the woman, and that had been just fine with him. 

Armstrong chose to ignore Roy’s comment, instead turning her cold glare on Jad Sahib. 

“You told me that you let this boy go,” she accused. 

“I did not,” Jad said, and the tremor was obvious in his voice. “I said that you would not be bothered by him again, and to email your order so I could make sure your needs were met with no fuss.” 

“And yet here I am, again being bothered,” the woman said, despite the fact that Edward hadn’t said a single word. 

Ed took the matter in hand. “I’ll be in the stockroom, Jad,” he said, hefting the box of dildo panties he was sorting. 

“That’s not good enough,” the woman said. “I would prefer that you not ruin this, or any other visit to Pothos for me.” She turned to Jad. “Am I understood?” 

Jad’s jaw was on the floor. “What? I . . . you want me to . . . fire him? I can’t do that!” he exclaimed. 

Armstrong sighed. “Then he’ll just have to quit.” She pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text. 

The man that answered her summons was tall and muscular, his pure white hair shaved close on the back and sides with a spikey crown on top. His sleeveless vest showed off some amazing ink, complex tattoos that wound around his arms from biceps to wrists. But his most striking feature was the large X-shaped scar that stretched from his forehead and down across his eyes to his upper cheekbones. 

The scarred man stalked over to Edward without instruction while Jad, Roy, and Edward himself wondered what fucked up bizzaro world they had all fallen into. Had Armstrong just called in her own personal enforcer? Was this really happening? 

“Make this easy on yourself, boy,” Armstrong said. “Ask yourself: is your job as a sex shop employee worth this kind of trouble? Quit now, and I’ll let you walk out the door.” 

What could Ed say, except, “Fuck you.” 

The scarred man took another step forward. 

“My mistress has asked you to leave. You will do so and never return,” Scarface advised him, expressionless. 

“Make me.” 

Scarface responded by settling into a firm stance and putting up a guard. 

Ed glanced over at his boss. 

Jad looked like he was about to have an aneurism caused by extreme indecision. Armstrong was probably the only woman that scared him more than his mom. And that was saying something. Komal Baji was scary as hell in her own right. 

No help there. 

Ed looked over at Roy. 

The man’s brows were deeply furrowed as his eyes shifted between Armstrong, Edward, and Scarface, furiously weighing his options for a way out of this situation. 

At least Ed could count on him for backup. If ‘calling an ambulance for your lover’ could be considered backup. 

Ed put down the box of sex toys, drew himself up to his full height, and raised a guard of his own. 

And while 5 feet 6- and three-quarter inches was a perfectly normal height, damn it, it was not nearly intimidating enough to deter the average douchebag. Some assholes needed you to _loom_. Given the current status quo however, 5 feet 6- and three-quarter inches was well below the acceptable looming threshold. 

Scarface definitely had the looming advantage - to add to a long list of others. The guy’s forearms were probably as big around as Ed’s thighs. 

But fuck it. Ed had never backed down from a bully, and he wasn’t about to start now. He was fast, so he figured his best bet would to be to stay out of range as much as possible, dodge in and out to chip away at weak points, and go down fighting. This big douchebag was going to know he was in a fight; that was a promise Ed made to himself. 

There wasn’t a trace of fear on his face; nevertheless, Ed’s balls were currently trying to take refuge inside his body cavity. Apparently, Ed’s balls were a lot smarter than the rest of him. 

Because honestly, a knock down drag out free-for-all was exactly what Ed wanted right now. He was keyed up, stressed out, and pissed off, and someone was going to pay for it. 

The Ice Queen’s intense regard had never wavered. Her cold blue eyes were locked on her target, and Edward felt time slow, a sensation he was intimately familiar with from every crisis situation he’d ever been in – and there had been plenty. A calm settled over him as he prepared to move. 

Roy chose that moment to step between Ed and Scarface. 

“Get out of the way, Bastard,” Ed snarled. “This asshole is going down.” 

“ **This. Ends. _Now_.**” 

Roy’s deep commanding tone brooked no argument and spoke directly to Ed’s core. Roy almost burned with authority, eyes locked on Armstrong. “Tell your man to _stand down_.” Again, that imposing, self-assured tone made Ed shiver. 

For the first time the scarred man appeared hesitant. He kept his eyes on Ed, but if he had been a dog, his ears would have been twitched toward his mistress. 

Time stood still. 

And then, Armstrong laughed. It was probably the most chilling sound Ed had ever heard. 

“Stand down, Asar,” she ordered, and the man immediately relaxed his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Roy was not at all amused. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “Why would a citizen of your standing believe that she could walk into a private establishment, bully its owner, and terrorize an employee? All in front of a credible witness who just so happens to be a respected press official. Your behaviour is disgraceful. I would back off if I were you, unless you think your brother’s re-election campaign can weather the negative voter reaction that a report on this incident would certainly generate.” 

Armstrong snorted, unabashed. “As you wish, Mustang,” she conceded. Then she made a flippant gesture toward Ed. “I would have enjoyed seeing how he handles himself; he’s got spirit. It would have been entertaining I’m sure, but,” she shrugged, “we’ll leave your little boy-toy alone.” 

Ed might have let it slide, but he had long since run out of fucks. He glared at Armstrong, still ready to rock and roll. 

“Boy toy. Huh.” He jerked a thumb at Asar. “I guess some people need bigger toys than others. It’s called ‘over compensation’, isn’t it?” 

Instead of taking offence, the Ice Queen smiled a disturbing smile. She stepped in close and leaned down until she and Ed were eye to eye. “And sometimes it’s called finding your perfect match. A powerful player requires a powerful playmate.” 

Then she patted Ed on the head, earning an outraged growl. “Give my regards to your brother, boy,” she said, and turned to the door without a backward glance. “Asar. Heel.” The big man strode to her side. “Jad. I’ll email my order. Have it ready for six.” 

With a jingle of doorballs they were gone. 

It took the three men left behind a few moments to recover. Edward managed it first. 

“What the hell just happened?” 

He glanced at Jad. Jad shrugged, expression stunned, and glanced at Roy. Roy slowly shook his head, confused and troubled. The whole situation had been beyond bizarre. 

“Mustang Sahib,” Jad said, voice a little unsteady. “I would ask you for a favor.” 

“I would be happy to take Edward out for his dinner hour at around 5:30,” Roy said with a grin. 

Jad sighed with relief.

**Author's Note:**

> Need I mention that the next one is already started?


End file.
